


Bonus Round

by morallygreywaren (DontDrinkColdCoffee)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Drug Use, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex on a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3905632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontDrinkColdCoffee/pseuds/morallygreywaren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>He wasn’t sure what the red pill that looked like hell and tasted like fire would do to him, but he was even more unwilling to find out than what Kavinsky would do to him if he refused to swallow it.</em><br/>- How my fanfic-addled brain thought this substance-addled scene could have played out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonus Round

**Author's Note:**

> I've just started to read "Blue Lily, Lily Blue", but this scene from the woods wouldn't leave me, and I had to get it out of my system before I can trust myself to enjoy anything that might happen between Ronan and Adam.  
> Everything in italics is from the real book (which I hope will not cause any problems), the rest is what I think should/could/might have happened, if one were to undo the seems and add some more complicated stitch work.

_“Bonus round”, Kavinsky said. Then: “Open.”_

He held Ronan’s jaw in a firm but gentle grip in his left hand, forcing it open but making it feel like Ronan still had a choice. Ronan caught his eyes for only second before he dropped an impossibly red pill on the middle of his tongue. There was something burning away in them, something Ronan thought could eat him alive if he would swallow what he was given.

 _“What’s this one do?”_ , _Ronan asked,_ no fear in his voice. The chemicals had already begun oozing into his system, and he felt a resistant tugging at his nerve endings.

 _Kavinsky said, “Dying is a boring side-effect”_. His hand slid from Ronan’s jaw to the back of his neck, caressing his skull for only the split of a second before sitting back and watching Ronan with something that looked like a bastard-mixture of amusement and interest.

He wasn’t sure what the red pill that looked like hell and tasted like fire would do to him, but he was even more unwilling to find out rather than what Kavinsky would do to him if he refused to swallow it.

Unnoticed, he put the pill between his back teeth, intent on not letting it touch his gums and tongue any longer than it already had. If he didn’t concentrate on things like Kavinsky slowly blinking up at him or the sun on his neck to keep him in the real world, he knew it would be the easy as pie to let the pill guide him to sleep. Or knock him out like a punch in the face Ronan was better at giving than taking.

So he gave away a little to the tugging, and _lowered himself onto his chest and then rested his cheek against the hood, the heat of the metal not quite painful enough to be unbearable. He closed his eyes._ Yes, it would be easy. But just how much did addling your mind do to your subconscious? Alcohol he knew and could deal with. And Kanvinsky seemed to have a certain fondness of the green pills – taken from dreams to return to them. What a strange concept, he thought belatedly.

_After a moment, he heard the hood groan as Kavinsky leaned over him. Then he felt the ridged callus of a finger drag slowly over the skin on his back. A slow arc between his shoulder blades, drawing the pattern of his tattoo. Then sliding down his spine, tensing every muscle it moved over._

Ronan’s breath did not give away the hitch it should have, as _the fuse inside him was burning to nothing._ It was not the pill. It was the electricity that seemed to ignite under Kanvinsky’s touch like the ley line had under Adam’s.

 _Ronan didn’t move. If he moved, the touch on his spine would stab him_.

He slit his eyes to see Kavinsky open another small bag of white powder before he felt it on his back, fitting into the ridges of his spine like dust. Kavinsky’s body stretched over him, a ghost of breath at the small of his back that made little hairs stand up all over his body up to his neck, before the same calloused fingers moved the powder into place.

It was Kavinsky, just doing another line of coke of his back, but when he heard the sharp inhale dragged over his skin, he had to clench his fingers into fists not to arch up under him. He stole a cautionary glance at Kavinsky’s naked torso, dragged his eyes up over his ribs and shoulders, until they locked with his. Being found out, his breathing stopped just as Kavinsky leaned down again to lick the remains of the coke from Ronan’s spine.

The wet stripe he left cooled in a gust of wind that swept over the Camaro, and Ronan involuntarily shivered as Kavinsky edged closer to his face, still not able to pull his gaze away from him.

Then he was impossibly close to Ronan and turned him around with a strong grip on his shoulder, pupils blown and imploring his face.

“You did not swallow it, did you?”

It was just a hint of an raised eyebrow on Kavinsky’s face, but it made Ronan turn his chin down just a little so he could look up at him through his lashes laced with mock-innocence before he moved the pill between his front teeth and gave Kavinsky a sly smile, all teeth and no sympathy.

But Kavinsky just edged his finger under Ronan’s chin and pulled his face up to his gaze again, as if Ronan was offering to sell him something that needed further inspection.

“What is it with you and all the Dickie Boys that you always refuse what you’re given?”

It was not a question, it was a shot, and even if it had been, it was not as if Ronan would have had a chance to answer it.

Swift as a hawk, Kavinsky angled his face and closed his teeth around the pill between Ronan’s teeth, who opened his jaw to gasp in surprise. It was just for a moment, but it was a moment Kavinsky seemed to have been waiting for, and Ronan, about to close his eyes from the sheer proximity of Joseph Kavinsky, felt his lips being grazed by teeth before a tongue darted into his mouth, slick and hot and prone to fight.

Relieved from the pill, Ronan knew he always gave better than he got, and sat up on the Camaro with his arms propped up behind him, finding leverage as he sucked on Kavinsky’s tongue and pressed in so hard he knew they would bruise.

This was Kavinsky. They did not have an understanding of not hurting each other or mutual pleasure. It was just this – hard lines against each other under the scalding sun, eating away at their souls and sharing breath that was barely enough for one.

Ronan would not touch him, no matter how much his fingers itched to do so. He was still not quite sure whether it was really Kavinsky in front of him, or if he had slipped accidentally and Orphan girl was around, somewhere, watching as Kavinsky all but ripped open his trousers.

It certainly felt like someone was watching.

But Ronan didn’t dare open his eyes, afraid that whatever Kavinsky was doing might be too much.

His cock was already leaking against his stomach, and he was distantly aware that Kavinsky was now sitting back on his heels with a dastard smile pulling apart his features.

Ronan cracked one eye open to see Kavinsky straddling him now, having removed his own pants and underwear, and fisting his cock in a slow twisting motion while looking down at Ronan through lidded eyelids.

Ronan did not want to show what this image did to him, but was betrayed by his body as his cock twitched, and his mouth dropped open in a puffy exhale.

“It could have been so easy, Lynch”, Kavinsky said, his accent becoming thicker. He let go of his cock and pushed Ronan down against the windshield, roaming his sides with his hands for a second before cupping his arse in both of them, inching Ronan’s legs apart.

“Just one dream”, his breath was a ghost next to Ronan’s ear as he forced one finger past his rim, “one dream, and it could have been yours.”

What? The Camaro? You?, Ronan wanted to ask, but his breath only sufficed for a low moan from the back of his throat when Kavinsky began to twist two fingers inside him, sliding in and out of him with lube that seemed to have come out of nowhere, and hitting a spot that made Ronan reconsider reality once again.

He was squirming away and inching closer at the same time, his back arching up from the sweat-stained windshield as his outstretched arms and hands pressed against it.

“Makes me think you might not be going back after all.” The sound of Kavinsky’s voice, his hot breath against his neck as a drop of sweat slid down his chest and the compressed heat as he added a third finger made Ronan see nothing but white hot energy exploding in front of his eyes.

It took combined effort from every muscle in his body to choke out a reply.

"Whatever gets you through the night, K."

Kavinsky bit down on his ear, an infuriating chuckle rippling through his body and shaking against Ronan.

“We’ll see.”, he said, and pulled all his fingers out at once. Ronan’s eyes widened at the loss, it felt strange and too sudden, and he drew in a breath to protest that got stuck in his throat as Kavinsky grabbed the inside of his knees and pushed his legs further apart before pressing against Ronan in one swift motion.

The grin was back on Kavinsky’s face, and he bit down on Ronan’s lip as he pushed into him, filling Ronan up until there was little left in Ronan that didn’t feel like combusting or bursting from pain and pleasure.

Kravinsky slid his tongue into his mouth again, lazily pushing into Ronan’s warm wetness as he set up a pace with his hips that made Ronan cling to him with his arms and legs and teeth, adamant and unrelenting.

It made Ronan gasp for air, all of his muscles constantly clenching and unclenching as the windshield rattled against his back and the small sheen of spit between his and Kavinsky’s lips boiled under their touch.

Kavinsky was alive with the rhythm even as his eyes slipped back to their heavy-lidded state as they rested on the small line of freckles Ronan had and despised just where the circles under his eyes began. He smiled against Ronan’s mouth, closed his eyes and leaned back.

The air between them should’ve cooled Ronan down, but he was transfixed by the way Kavinsky moved in and around him, the boy who always seemed to be in a place that belonged even less to this earth than Ronan. He shivered despite the bristling heat, when Kavinsky let out a low growl, and pumped once, twice more before throwing his head back and emptying himself in Ronan.

Ronan lay against the windshield, a quivering mess as he felt Kavinsky slipping out of him, but still painfully hard and unable to form a coherent thought, let alone sentence.

But Kavinsky was not yet done with him. Without finding his eyes again, Kavinsky leaned down over Ronan’s torso, teeth grazing his belly button, and slid his hands from where they had still been holding Ronan’s legs to move over his thighs and grab his dick.

Ronan wanted to throw his head back when the firm fingers around him settled on pumping him roughly, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from Kavinsky’s necklace, that was now hovering dangerously over the tip of his cock.

He held his breath as Kavinsky stopped moving an inch before the metal would have touched him, and glanced up at Ronan with eyebrows that seemed to scream _watch me_. Then he plunged down and enveloped Ronan in a tight, wet ardour that made the Camaro’s heat pale in comparison and Ronan’s toes crawl against the metal.

A string of low moans escaped his throat, unable to hold them in as Kavinsky slid his tongue against him, hollowing his cheeks and spreading spit all over his cock while making sucking noises with excruciatingly slow movements.

He did not want to give away, did not want to give Kavinsky the satisfaction, and he did not want it to be over. So he could not warn Kavinsky, as all of a sudden the energy seemed to detonate around Ronan, and he arched himself impossibly high while coming in Kanvinsky’s mouth with a shout.

Ronan sagged against the windshield, feeling boneless and spread wide open like melted butter over a piece of bread, and found it hard to catch his breath when Kavinsky climbed on top of his body again, his smile only just this side of cruel.

He had no resistance in him when two fingers hooked around his already open mouth and Kavinsky leaned down, closing their lips together and pushing his own come back into his mouth, together with what felt like a small pill, that Ronan could only image was bright red.

“And now swallow”, Kavinsky said, holding Ronan’s throat with one hand as he complied obediently, the fight fucked out of him, “before I have to show you more side-effects bonus rounds can have.”

Ronan tried to smile as his brain collapsed and he sagged forward against Kavinsky.

_He might have imagined it. What was real?_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm literally so sorry. 
> 
> Anyway, if you liked this, come say hi on [tumblr](www.pynchie.tumblr.com/ask) or drop me a line in the comments! x


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